If I Stay
by CupcakeSprinkles14
Summary: For Glitter14: Peeta thought the hardest decision he'd ever have to make would be choosing between his dream of attending Julliard and his boyfriend, Cato. But when a tragic accident takes the life of his family and Peeta is trapped in limbo, a ghost unseen to all, forced to relive major points in his life, Peeta realizes there are much more difficult decisions to be made.


**A/N: My first summer Peetato Prompt Request! This is based on an upcoming film 'If I Stay' starring Chole Grace Mortez. I only had a trailer to go and some aid from the person who requested it-Glitter14-so this is my interpretation. Hope you enjoy it!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own the Hunger Games or the plot of 'If I Stay'.**

**If I Stay**

**For Glitter14**

You know how you meet someone, and they already are the person they're meant to be?

That was Cato.

Nobody outside 12 had heard of his band but he was already was somebody.

Me?

Not so much.

Julliard has always been a dream of mine. The bow of a cello has always felt like an extension of my arm, not a separate piece of apparatus. Making beautiful music is, and always has been, my ambition. Creating a melody that can reduce people to tears, make them sing with joy, laugh in happiness, feel something _deeper_ than just a couple of notes strung together.

I guess you could say I have been raised in a musical household. My parents were teenage lovers, living on the road, alternating between different rock concerts. Honestly, they were basically hippies, no matter what they claim. (I think hard rock activists is just slang for hippies).

Even though my taste for classical music is completely different to my parent's love of rock, they have never discouraged me in my dream of attending Julliard. I suppose I should be thankful, since a lot of people my age can feel pressured into following their parent's hopes over their own and I have two easy-going rock 'n' rollers who just want my younger brother and I to be free.

I met Cato, strangely enough, in my own home. I had seen him in the corridors at school, of course, but he had always been out of reach. The rebellious, hard-core, sexy, mysterious guy who wouldn't give a guy like me the time of day. There had been a glimmer of hope, once, when Cato came out at the school talent show by crooning, "I kissed a boy and I liked it," into the microphone, but it soon died. I mean, Cato and I are polar oppisotes. He's ying, I'm yang. He's summer, I'm winter. He's salt . . . I'm pepper?

Okay, enough with the analogies.

And yet, we were still together.

I suppose it's true what they say, opposites do attract. Cato has helped me through difficult times, especially where it concerns my music, and has been extremely supportive of my dream to go to Julliard. Most didn't believe our relationship would work, I still think most don't. Most are waiting for the moment the news of a split up to come out and for them to declare, "I knew it!"

"Do you have to go?" Cato moans, wrapping his arms around my waist. I laugh and slap his head jokingly.

"Yes, I do," I say.

"Can't you stay with me?" Cato drags out the final word, for so long I feel it bouncing around in my head long after he pipes down. I shake my head so several curls of blond hair fall into my eyes. "I can make up for anything you'd miss with them."

"Cato, it's a family outing," I insist. "Emphasis on the word _family._ I can't bail on them. I promised Rye I'd show him how to skip stones."

"I just don't want to be sitting around missing you," Cato mutters. I brush my fingers through his hair and let my head fall against his. My eyes take in my bedroom and I remember the first day I met him. The day my best friend Madge claimed she had known it all along, which I knew for a fact was a lie.

"I promise I'll come and see you as soon as we get back," I promise. Cato lifts his head and smiles. I return the smile and kiss him, allowing myself to bask in it for a moment before pulling away.

Cato re-connects our lips for a second. "I love you," he says.

"I love you too," I reply.

Because it's true, I do.

My mother interuppts us by yelling at me to get my butt down here because we had to hit the road. Cato groans even louder and I laugh, grabbing his hand and dragging him out of the bed with me. "It's only a weekend, we'll be back before you know it," I say.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah."

We walk down the stairs hand in hand to find a massacre of bags strewn around the floor of the hallway. My dad runs in and out, grabbing a new bag and tossing it into the boot of our car. Rye is also running, giggling like the crazy hyper active child that he is and wildy swinging his gameboy around as if it didn't cost a hundred quid to buy.

My mum rolls her eyes when she sees us, jerking her head in our direction when dad comes back in to collect another bag. "Do you think you two will be able to survive the weekend without each other?" he asks.

I nod. "Yes," I say.

"No," Cato says at the same time.

"Well," Mum grabs Rye as he runs past, lifting him into the air and causing high pitched squeals to emnate from his tiny person, "you two say your goodbyes while I strap this tyke in."

Once the house is empty, Cato spins me around and presses a burning kiss against my lips. I sigh and let him, opening my mouth when he requests entrance and basking in the fire that caressed my guts every time he touched me. "You be safe now, you hear?" he says firecely when we pull apart.

I nod and cross my heart. "I promise."

Cato nods and kisses me again. "When you get back, we're going to have to have the talk."

I resist the urge to groan in annoyance. I don't want to have the talk. In fact, I want to push the talk off for as long as possible, even though it has to come eventually. Because there are two options in my life: Julliard, or Cato. Not because Cato is making me choose, but Julliard might as well be. I won't have time for him when I'm there, I won't have time to go to his shows or see him every day like we do now. We have to have the talk, and I have to make a choice.

The hardest choice I'll ever have to make.

Cato isn't clingy, he just hates saying goodbye. So the entire journey from the bottom of the stairs to the car is travelled with his arms around my waist. He held on so tight it was as if he was trying to make himself an extra body part. Although, I doubt I'd mind that, since I probably will miss him just as much as he misses me over this weekend.

I get one last burning kiss before I get into the car and as my dad pulls out of the driveway, I wave goodbye to Cato, who still manages to look rebellious and aloof while standing in two metres of snow. I blow him a kiss and he mimes catching it, sticking it into his pocket for later, like he always does.

The car journey is along and I begin to get restless. I hate travelling, it makes me anxious and on edge. Rye doesn't give a damn, which is kind of irritating. He's the younger one, shouldn't he be the one wailing and complaining about how long the trip is?

"So, what's the first thing you're going to do when we get to the cabin?" asked mum.

"Peeta's gonna show me how to skip stones!" Rye declares excitedly. He beams at me and my previous annoyance is lost. I scruff his hair and grin.

"I'm going to try and fit in some practice," I say. "At least a little bit, anyway." The audition for Julliard was getting dauntingly closer and I feared that I wouldn't be ready, that I'd fail, and that my dream wouldn't come true. Sometimes I wondered though, that if this happened, I could be with Cato. But what's the point in a life with Cato if I don't have an occupation to follow. I'm in no means being rude but Cato doesn't earn much from his band. We will need some form of earning, after all.

"Well, I'm going to take a nice, long bath," mum decides, nudging dad with a knowing grin.

I groan. "Please, don't," I plead.

"What?" dad asks. "We're still young. In fact, I bet we could run rings around Cato and you in that field."

"I agree," mum laughs.

"Oh god, is this conversation really happening?" I ask no one in particular. Both my parents chuckle and I throw my head into my hands. No child is properly traumatized until they realize that the baths that their parents take together has nothing to do with personal hygiene.

"Truck," Rye mumbles.

"I suppose you're going to be saying next that Cato and I remind you of you two when you were younger?" I say.

"Truck," Rye repeats. I ignore him. Sometimes he comes out with random stuff like that.

"Actually," my mother says, "about that-"

"Truck," Rye says for the third time.

I turn in him in exasperation. "Rye, what are you talking about-"

"DAMIEN, TRUCK!" My mother suddenly screams.

Everything goes dark.

~xXx~

My eyes flutter open. I'm staring at the sky. It's completely white, a blanket of fluffy clouds blotting out any possibility of baby blue sightings. I feel light, almost like a feather, and I feel content to lie the way I am for the rest of my life, if I had a choice. But I don't, even if I might be dreaming anyway.

I stand up.

I'm surrounded by carnage.

There seems to have been a car crash. Paramedics and police hurry around, prying the doors out of what's left of the car and pulling people out. I approach with a frown, slipping under the police tape when they're not looking. People rush past me as if I'm not even there.

The closer I get to the car, the faster my heart pounds.

That looks like my dad's car.

When they pull the first person out, my throat closes over in horror. "Mum!" I scream, gripped with fear. No one reacts, as if they hadn't heard me. I run closer. A fireman pulls her limp body out of the wreckage and lays her on the ground. He checks her pulse and looks at his collegue, shaking his head.

"She's gone," he said.

I step back, my hand covering my mouth in shock. No, my mum wasn't dead . . . She couldn't. "Do something," I say to the paramedic, "try and save her!" They don't even flinch and move on as if I hadn't spoken to them at all. "Do something, HELP HER!" I scream after them, but they ignore me.

My feet quickly take me to the other side of the car, where the firemen are still trying to pry open the door. I fall to my knees and crawl closer, expecting them to tell me to back off. They don't. I see my father, crushed between the steering wheel and the chair, his entire body mangled. His chest is still. He's not breathing.

"Daddy," I whisper, reaching out to touch his face. I can't reach him through the wreck. Tears form in my eyes and I swallow a painful lump in my throat. There was no questioning it, he was gone too. Just like my mother.

Rye and I are orphans now . . .

Rye . . .

Rye!

I scramble back, to look into the backseat. He isn't in his car seat. I panic and lurch to my feet, running behind the car in search of him. Only I wish I hadn't.

"Clear!" The paramedics pump voltage through my baby brother's tiny body, causing his body to bow. He falls back immediately, limp as a rag doll. He's covered in bruises and cuts, a giant gash on his temple being the most eye grabbing. My hands scramble at my face as tears stream down my cheeks as another voltage is sent through Rye. Still no response.

"I think we've lost him," one of them says.

"No," I croak, "don't give up."

"So young, too," another adds.

"Don't give up," I repeat. Why is no-one listening to me? In fact, why aren't they actknowledging me at all? "Do you hear me?! Don't give up on my baby brother! You can't! Do it again! SAVE HIM!" I might as well be screaming at a brick wall for all they listen to me.

"We got a live one!" someone on the other side of the car declares. Did my mother pull through? Did she survive, somehow? Uplifted just a little, I run around to my mum's side of the car. But her body is no longer there, the road where she had laid is empty.

That's when I see it.

The fireman drags a body out from the backseat. My heart flips and I feel extremely sick as I stare at the blond boy being pulled out and laid on the road. His chest is rising, just a little bit, but his body is worse for wear.

I'm staring at myself.

I fall backwards into darkness.

~xXx~

I am born.

I am nothing but an onlooker, sitting in the ambulance as my mother goes into labour. She's very far along, I remember the story, because she wanted to see the end of the Guns and Roses reunion concert despite the fact her water had broken. My father is there too and I am relieved to see them alive and well.

However, they don't see me.

No one seems to see me.

I was born in the ambulance, still ten minutes away from the hospital, and the paramedic wrapped me up in a red blanket and gave me to my dad to hold. He smiles at me fondly. There are already some blond curls on my head-my mum always said I was born to be blond-and I'm extremely lazy, not opening my eyes once for my dad. I am small, because I was born premature.

"What should we call him?" my dad asks mum.

"Hendrix?" mum suggests. I look at her in horror. They never mentioned that that was the first name they thought of when they had me!

My dad pulls a face. "I don't know why, or how, but he looks like a Peeta."

"Peeta, like the bread?" mum asks. Dad nods. She gazes at me, a frown of her own fixed on her face. "Peeta, yes. I love it."

Dad smiles and holds me close. "Welcome to the world, Peeta. It sucks. You're going to love it."

~xXx~

Madge and I met in music class when we were eight. I remember the day clearly. We had a fight over who got to use the lollipop drum and ended up having to share.

I watch myself and Madge as we take turns beating the drum from the back of the classroom, remembering for a fact that there hadn't been anyone watching from where I stood right now. I guess that confirms it. I'm a ghost. I don't know how or why, but I am nothing but a ghost, floating through memories like an entity.

Madge and I exchange snooty glances at each other, trying to out shine each other by whacking the drum as hard as possible each time to make a better sound. At the time, I definitely hadn't expected the lollipop stealer to be the girl who I would later confide in for everything that happened in my life. But now I can't imagine a life without her in it.

What had brought us together that day was afterwards, when the teacher told us that we were a great team. Being told this from an adult, at eight years old, this was a big deal, and Madge and I teamed up for everything from then to the end of primary school.

I just hope she's okay now . . .

~xXx~

The day I met Cato.

Oh god, not now.

I can't see this now. I don't know if I can handle it. I sit on my bed, my knees curled up to my chest, as everything pans out just as I remember it to.

I met him in my bedroom. It was strange, to say the least, to walk into my room after school and find Cato Hadley, rebel with a cause, standing on my computer chair as he glues something to my ceiling.

"What are you doing?" I ask, my eyes immediately going to my ceiling. Was that wallpaper he was glueing? The patterns were gorgeous. Baby blues and husky yellows tinted with pink. Babies longueing on clouds with glittering, golden wings and beautiful harps. Every single one seeming to smile down on me.

"Yup," Cato replies. I look back at him and raise my eyebrows. Is he going to elaborate on why he's doing this or . . . ? He met my gaze and my eyes widened, promptly averting themselves back to the ceiling. "A favour to your parents."

"Oh?" Why would he want to do favours for my parents? "And they want this done because . . . ?"

Cato jumped off the computer chair, hovering a good few inches above me. "That is what you will see when you audition at Julliard," he explains. "They want you to grow accustomed to it, so you won't be as nervous when the day comes."

This was what I was going to see? What looked like a rendition of heaven itself? My fingers twitched, dancing through the air as if already playing the cello for the school dictators. This still doesn't explain why Cato was doing this for my parents. For _me_, really. I force myself to meet his eyes. "Why are you putting it up?"

Cato shrugged. "My mum owes your mum from something that happened in their teenage hood or some old boring story like that," he says. My fingers clutch the strap of my cello bag so hard the blood rushes from my knuckles. I become painfully aware of all the embarrassing objects in my room. Posters of opera singers I adore, the blue painting of the hanging tree on the wall by my bed, the variety of cello bows that I keep alinged on my desk . . .

"Peeta!" My eyes widen. Oh god, Madge. My best friend throws herself at my doorframe, a silly grin on her face. "Peeta, your parents let me on up-Oh, hello." Her blue eyes flicker from me to Cato and back to me again.

"Don't mind me," Cato said, holding his hands. "I'm going now." He throws the brush he had been using up into the air and catches it again. His emerald eyes lock on my own blue eyes and hold a steady gaze that makes my mouth go dry. "I'll see you around, Peeta."

I open my mouth to answer but nothing comes out. Cato winks and scoots past Madge, who's jaw has unhinged and might as well be lying on the carpet. "Not a word, Madge," I warn as we hear the front door slam.

"I knew he liked you!" Madge exclaims.

"Since when?" I ask. "I've never heard of this development in your wild fantasies." I unzip my cello case and prop my beloved instrument up on the stand by my desk. "Look, he was just doing my parents a favour. His mum owes my mum or something like that . . ."

"Ha!" Madge barks. "His mum owes your mum. I bet that's bad boy language for 'I was really shifting through your underwear drawer when you weren't around'!"

"Madge!" I yell, horrified. She cracks up laughing. Even though I know she's kidding, the thought of Cato going through my underwear makes my cheeks burn in embarrassment. My heart is still recovering from having the hunk in my room in the first place and now she's trying to add a boatload of panic ontop of it.

By the time this memory ends, tears are in my eyes.

~xXx~

"Hello Mr and Mrs Mellark!" Cato says cheerfully. I stand behind him, so close and yet so far. I reach out, as if to touch him, but my hand passes right through. Pain clutches my heart and I try not to cry, forcing it down and putting a lid on it. "Is Peeta home?"

"Yes," my mum smiles, stepping aside to let him through. "Peeta! Cato's here!"

"Two seconds!" My voice calls downstairs.

I stick to Cato like a moth to a flame, wanting desperately to be held in his arms again and told that it was going to be okay. Every few seconds, I retry touching him but every time it's the same result. Complete pass through. I try not to let this hurt me but it does.

"Now, Cato," my dad says, "we know Peeta and you are young and have . . . urges."

I whip around, my eyes widening in horror. What was this?

My mother nodded. "And we know we can't tell you not to do anything about those urges," she says. "But all we ask is that you wear protection and be careful with our Peeta-pie." She lowers her voice to a whisper. "He's very shy."

Oh. My. God. They actually gave my boyfriend the sex talk while I had been upstairs? Why didn't Cato ever tell me?!

Cato chuckles. "Don't worry Mr and Mrs Mellark, I intend to look after your son. I won't do anything that will make him uncomfortable or unhappy."

At that moment, I jump down the stairs. Whoa, I'm never going to get used to looking at myself as if staring into a mirror. I hook my arm through Cato's and immediately start dragging him away from my parents. "See you later guys," I call, slamming the door behind me.

I'm left in the hallway with my parents. My mother sighs, "They remind me of us when we were their age."

My dad nods. "Definitely."

Heartbroken, I try to hug them. I trip right through them and fall into darkness again.

~xXx~

The third time, it's not like looking in a mirror at all.

A ridiculous white wig is on my head, tipped with pink at the ends of the artificial hair. I'm in all black, my jeans too tight and ripped at the knees. I lean against the wall in a way I think is nonchalant but actually just looks silly.

I walk up to myself and lean in close. Why in the world did I think that dressing like a fool was going to make him like me even more? Cato was already my boyfriend, he didn't ask me to change. But I did it anyway.

Cato came out the backstage door after his concert, guitar slung around his shoulder. His guitar pick was pressed between his lips as he adjusted his straps and I couldn't help thinking about how sexy he looked like that. Now that I see the memory replayed a second time, I don't think he recognized me at all and that's why he almost walked right by me.

"Cato!" I say, grabbing his attention.

My boyfriend looks at me in alarm. I can't say I blame him, now that I can look at myself properly, I really did not suit those clothes. "Peeta?" he asks, sounding surprised. "Why are you dressed like that?"

I circle my doupleganger and boyfriend as conversation bounces between us. My heart pounds, I can't control it, even if I am a ghost and may be dead. "Rumours have been flying around," the goth version of myself says, "rumours saying that you want a rebel for a boyfriend, not a goody, goody cello player like me."

"And you _listened_?" asks Cato.

Goth me nods. "Of course I did because it's the truth, isn't it?" I say. "Well, do you like me now? I changed for you."

Cato shakes his head and pulls me off to the side. I follow, keeping pace with the both of them as I remember exactly where we went. Cato frames goth me's face. My own hands go to my cheeks, as if I could replicate what it feels like to be touched by him. I don't know if he'll ever touch me like that again . . .

"What you are now, is what I loved yesterday, and what I will love tomorrow, and what I love now," Cato says firmly. Goth me blinks and I remember the confusion that had washed over me at that simple sentence.

Cato then leaned forward and kissed me.

Our first kiss.

But certainly not our last.

~xXx~

I'm in an operating room. I panic, looking around for a hint of what memory I am in. I don't remember ever being operated on, I've never had an illness or injury that severe. In the middle of the room a bunch of surgeons are preparing to operate on a body. I step closer, my blood pounding in my ears so hard I can hear it, and let out a tiny gasp as I see who it is.

It's me.

One of the surgeons who stands by my head begins to talk, "If you have any fight left in you, now's your time to use it all," she says gently to my unconscious body.

When the first knife cuts into my body, I let out an ear shattering scream. Panic flushes through me and I press myself against the wall with my eyes squeezed shut, wishing it was all over, it was all over, it was all over . . .

I stay this way until the surgery is over and I follow my body as it is wheeled to a private room. I don't know how long I stand over myself, willing my spirit to go back into my body, but nothing happens. Nothing at all.

When I see him, my heart soars.

Cato rushes through the reception, weaving around everyone who gets in his way. Even though as of late no one has actknowledge my presence, I run to him anyway, because it feels like he can see me, even though I know he can't. He presses himself against the window of my room, staring at my body in the bed with tears in his eyes. I wish he would look at _me_. I wish he could see_ me._

"Look at me," I whisper, placing my hand against his on the window. "Look at me, please."

Cato sits with my body for an extremely long time. Family and friends come and go, people who I haven't seen in years pretending like they're concerned when they're really just being nosey. Madge even visited, but didn't stay long, because she couldn't stand in the room for five minutes without crying.

I sit on the opposite side of the bed, staring at Cato intensely. Every so often, I say, "Look at me," but nothing happens.

The day Cato and I realized our feelings for each other ran deeper than just a rebel and a cello player relationship was the day we took a major step in our lives. As if my out of body experience was able to tell a memory was coming, the blackness of the dark wrapped around me and swallowed me up, pulling my mind from the hospital and taking me somewhere else.

~xXx~

"I don't know what to do."

I'm standing in my room again, the invisible third wheel as Cato and another version of myself sit cross legged, facing each other on the bed. The sight of Cato warms my heart and I resist the urge to reach out for him again. Being so close and yet so far hurt so much. I'd give anything to be back in my body so I can throw myself in his arms again and never let go.

"I can't tell you what to do, it's too big a decision for that."

The other me nods, understanding even though he doesn't want to. "Why do I have to choose between?" I say. "It's not fair."

Cato is playing with my hands, threading and unthreading our fingers. "Julliard has been your dream, I know that. I can't say I'd like it but if you choose to follow that dream, I'll stand by the decision."

I chew my cheek in deep thought.

My back presses against the far wall, staying as far from Cato and I as possible. Even though they can't see me, it's still unnerving to be standing there, waiting, expecting them to turn at any second and notice me standing there.

"I don't want to leave you behind," I say.

"I'll wait for you, if that's what it takes," Cato replies. He leans forward and kisses me. My fingers touch my own lips as I watch, remembering the tingles and the warmth that overcame me at the simple touch of our mouths. I know what's coming and yet I'm still nervous, as if being emotionally connected on some level to my other self.

Cato and I continue kissing. I push myself further back onto the bed, resting on my elbows as Cato looms over me. I remember what I felt at this moment, how sure I was of what I wanted to happen, how much I needed Cato in every way possible. As if this moment was the make or break point. Where the answer to our problem would reveal itself miraculously in a heat of passion.

My eyes close and I look away as my other self takes Cato's hands and places them on my belt. "Are you sure?" Cato whispered.

"Yes. I've never been more sure about anything before in my life."

Clothes fell to the floor, intercepted by gentle kisses and loving caresses. Sparks crackled and flew from each touch, every skin on skin touch setting our nerves on fire. My heart beats faster than ever before as I force myself to turn my head and watch. There had to be a reason for all this, I have to figure out what it is.

I'm wrapped around Cato, clinging to him. In that moment, he was my only form of safety, my rock, my love, the man I knew would always care for me. I'm breathing desperately, my hands scrabbling Cato's back as pleasure and desire crosses my features. He was always so careful with me . . .

"Are you ready?" Cato whispers. He leans forward and captures my lips again. His hands flutter down my sides as I frame his face, nodding furiously and lifting my hips up to brush against his.

"Yes," I pant, threading my fingers into his hair. "I'm ready."

I cry out when he enters me. Cato brushes his cheek against mine, pressing loving, gentle kisses against my neck. My heart sings as I adjust, eventually beginning to move against him. The air is charged, heated with electricity and passion. Hands wander, cradle and caress, the room filled with moans and sighs of desire.

I don't want to be here anymore. I don't want to watch things that I can't ever have. I don't know how to go back into my own body, I don't know how to pass on into where-ever I am to go next.

Am I going to be trapped in limbo forever, doomed to watch my life replaying over and over again?

"I don't want to do this anymore," I whisper. The anger boils up inside me and spills over. "I don't want to do this anymore!" I yell, louder than before. "I don't want to!" Louder than I've ever yelled since this whole ordeal began.

My other self screams as well, in ecstasy instead of rage and frustration.

"I love you," I whisper.

"I love you too," Cato replies.

"LET ME GO!" I scream, throwing my head into my hands in despair. "Just let me go!"

~xXx~

I'm slammed back into the hospital, where Cato still sits. Has he went home yet? My face is coated with tears I hadn't realized had been falling. I walk around the bed and sit down beside him, despite the fact it's a fruitless idea. I want to feel him again, his warmth, his love, his arms around me again. I'm sick of being transparent and invisible. I'm sick of being stuck in the inbetween.

I rest my head on his shoulder, surprised when it stays there, as if I can touch solid things all of a sudden. My eyes fall closed for just a moment. Cato inhales a little and I look up. He's looking in my direction and for a fateful second I think he can see me. My heart stutters and I open my mouth to speak to him, but he looks away again and I crumple.

Cato looks at my body, which is unmoved since I fell into the most recent memory.

"I love you," he says, reaching out and touching my hand. "I love you. I love you. I love you. I want to say it as much as possible because I'm scared I'm never going to be able to say it again."

I stand a few inches behind him, my face melting a little at his words. His voice is trembling and he sounds close to tears. Cato has never cried in front of me. Ever.

"I remember when I first saw you, I couldn't help thinking that you were the one for me," he says. "It took a while to grab your attention and it took doing your mother a favour to get you to finally see me. I sometimes can't help thinking that you're always too focused on being a good person, you're missing out on all the opportunities that life can offer a man as magnificent as you."

Has he always felt like this? I open my mouth to ask but realize he won't even hear me.

"I feel like I'm in your way," Cato continues. "You would be able to follow your dream of going to Julliard if it wasn't for me. I'm nothing but a burden on you . . ."

"No, you're not," I say.

"So, I'm going to go. If you make it through, I will do the brave thing and let you go," says Cato. "But don't be afraid to let go now, if that's what you have to do. You don't have to be strong anymore." He stands up and kisses me, squeezing his eyes shut when I don't respond.

"Stop talking like that Cato," I say, stepping up behind him. "Cato, I'm here. You're not a burden, I love you. Never mind Julliard, I want you. Nothing else. I have no one else now, I love you. Don't do this, please!"

Cato sinks back into his seat and hugs my body, wrapping his arms around my waist and holding me close. "Don't be afriad," he whispers into the covers.

That's when I realize. This is the decision. This is what I have to do. I have to choose between staying with Cato or letting go. Being with my family or staying here, on earth, with the love of my life. The hardest decision has nothing to do with Julliard. It's all about Cato.

It always has been.

A bright light explodes from the window. I jerk around, staring into the luminous yellow and trying to see beyond it. Cato continues talking, unaware of the light. "Don't be afriad," he repeats.

I hold my hands over my eyes. My family don't need me. They have each other. I need to stay here, I need to stay with Cato. "I don't want to go!" I yell. I don't know who I'm shouting to, but whoever it is who has done this to me, I hope they're listening. "I want to stay! Please, I can't die! I don't want to leave him!"

The light gets brighter, consuming me completely. I lose Cato and the hospital somewhere in the light. I spin around frantically. "Please, I don't want to die!" I scream. "I love Cato, I don't want to leave him! PLEASE!"

My head feels light and I am dizzy. I trip up and fall onto my knees in the light. I can still hear Cato in my mind, saying those three words over and over again. "Don't be afraid, don't be afraid, don't be afraid."

But I am.

I'm afraid.

The light turns to darkness and I am swallowed in the black.

~xXx~

My body is heavy. Everywhere aches. I want to force my sticky eyes open but it's a great effort. I groan in pain, trying to move but being held down by an unknwon force. What memory is this?

"Peeta?" A voice. It sounds hopeful.

"Nghuh?" I mumble. Someone can see me! With an almighty push, my eyelashs rip as I force my eyes open. Everything's white for a moment and I almost burst out crying. Had I died? Was I in heaven?

Cato's face slides into view and my heart soars. I cry out in joy and try to hug him, but my body is too tired. "Cato," I croak. "Oh my god!"

"Oh thank god, you're alive!" exclaims Cato. He wraps his arms around me and holds me tight. My arms wind around him and I hold as tight as the fatigue will let me. "You held on," he whispers.

"I did," I reply, burying my face desperately into his neck. "I held on for you."

Cato looks up at me, cupping my cheek with his hand. "Look, Peeta, I've been thinking. About Julliard, if you want to-"

I place a shaky hand over his mouth. "Sssh, don't speak. Just kiss me." He does, and I bask in his warmth, in being able to be held again. "Don't worry about Julliard, I just want you, nothing else. Only you," I say. "You're all I want, Cato. If I don't have you then I'll never be happy."

Relief floods Cato's features and he kisses me again, harder, passionately. "I was so scared," he breathes, burying his face into my neck.

I find myself smiling, despite the ordeal I have just went through. I stroke his hair affectionately. "Don't be afraid," I say gently. "You don't ever have to be afraid again."

**A/N: I hope you like it? R&R with thoughts!**

**Remember, if you want something written, just send me a prompt or idea you'd like me to adapt into a one shot for you! (Peetato, obviously). Everyone's ideas are welcome! :D**


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